Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 444 Reliable Harry

Arachnophobia and such...

It wasn't really a secret, after all, back on the train, Lee Jordan got his hands on a huge bag spider, and Ron was trembling with fear.

In addition, he had told Hermione several times how Fred and George used spiders to scare him when he was a child, which left him traumatized.

This caused Hermione to be overcome with maternal instincts when he spoke, and she hugged him and comforted him for a long time.

Ron also tasted the sweetness of success; that kid is quite cunning.

“I think your idea is quite sound,” Seamus said to Harry. “But when are we going into the Forbidden Forest? I feel like I’m getting rusty from being at school all this time.”

“No rush,” Ron said. “We should wait until after the Apparition test. Let’s prepare for this first.”

It's clear that Ron still has a considerable fear of spiders.

In fact, arachnophobia is one of the world's major phobias.

This is not being pretentious at all...

“I think we need to find something meaningful to do,” Neville suddenly said. “Harry is right, we should definitely experience a completely new life in the Forbidden Forest… But what do you think is the meaning of life?”

"So I can get some chicken legs to eat in the auditorium," Ron said, hands behind his back, exuding the air of a master.

“No, brother,” Neville said again, “I’m not talking about what we should do, but about the meaning of our lives…”

"So I can get some chicken legs to eat in the auditorium," Ron replied earnestly.

Neville rolled his eyes and decided to ignore him.

The Apparition test was fast approaching. Harry didn't need to take it; Neville wasn't old enough, he'd have to wait a few months to turn seventeen...

Harry stayed in the common room until evening, and just as he was about to go out, he found that they had already returned.

"Harry!" Hermione called out as she squeezed through the portrait hole, "Harry, I passed the exam!"

"Well done! Where's Ron?"

“He—he was so close,” Hermione whispered. Ron scurried over, looking utterly dejected. “What bad luck, because of something so trivial—the examiner just happened to see that he had lost half an eyebrow…”

“No way,” Ron said as he walked over. “Bad luck, buddy. But you’ll definitely pass next time—you can take the test with Neville.”

“I suppose so,” Ron said dejectedly. “Just half an eyebrow! As if it’s such a big deal!”

“I understand,” Hermione comforted her, “it’s very demanding…”

They spent most of their dinner cursing the Phantom Examiner, but Ron seemed to be in a better mood by the time they walked back to the common room.

“I’ve been thinking about reopening the Duel Hut, Hermione,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes. “We’re planning to do some activities in the Forbidden Forest. Are you interested? Would you like to join?”

“I won’t be going, Harry,” Hermione said apologetically. “You know I have to work on my show…”

"How's your show going?" Harry asked curiously.

“It’s all prepared,” Hermione said, perking up. “How about this introduction? — I’m Hermione Khan, and I’ve earned many O’s at Hogwarts…”

“No!” Ron gave his opinion almost without thinking. “You’re making yourself seem too arrogant. Being so eager to show off your achievements at Hogwarts will give people the impression that you’re showing off…”

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Let me think..." Ron muttered, but then stopped.

“How about this,” Harry suddenly said, “you can introduce yourself like this: I’m Hermione Khan, a new main pack member who’s not good with words.”

"Why is it called the main package?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

“Make some memes,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Sometimes, if you introduce yourself too seriously, it won’t leave a lasting impression. On the contrary, this kind of approach will give people a certain feeling—look, for example, when someone insults you, you can say—'Even the main package is a bit silly, it hurts too.'”

Yes, guys, he looks like Hu Ge (laughs). Has he shared any photos yet?
"Huh?" Hermione clearly didn't get Harry's meaning.

“In other words, you don’t need to emphasize your academic genius persona too much, as that would backfire.” Harry patiently explained, “People are very strict with academic geniuses when they share knowledge, and they will attack you if you make even the slightest mistake. But ordinary people are not so harsh, especially girls who seem a little silly. They are more likely to be pitied, and therefore less aggressive.”

“That makes sense.” Hermione gave a thumbs up, adopting Harry’s suggestion.

“Look,” Harry said to Hermione, taking her best friend’s manuscript. “You’re not quite right here… Nobody’s going to be curious about this kind of serious introduction… It’s too bland to just jump straight into the subject’s biography. You need to start with an explosive story to grab people’s attention, understand?”

"How so?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

She was indeed intrigued; after all, Harry's account was so detailed and convincing that she couldn't help but believe him.

"Take this place for example. You just introduce the biography of the eccentric Yurik, saying that he was born in such-and-such year and died in such-and-such year. That's just reading from a script. Who do you think would find this kind of writing interesting?"

“Teach me, Harry!” Hermione’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Look,” Harry said, pointing ahead, “let’s try a different approach… For example, at the beginning, you could point out the strange things that this weirdo Euric did… In 1059, a strange man walked into the Wizarding Council and began presenting his findings. He claimed that the call of the Witch Bird was actually beneficial to humans, and to prove his point, he listened to the Witch Bird’s call for three months straight. But when he arrived, everyone noticed that he was wearing nothing but a small wig. Upon closer inspection, they discovered that the wig was actually a dead badger… Then, you could begin to describe his life in detail… How about that? Doesn’t it open up your thinking a bit more?”

Hermione's eyes lit up as she listened.

Yes, that does sound quite interesting.

It was far less impressive than anything she had prepared before—frankly, even she herself felt it probably wouldn't attract many people.

Even doubting oneself shows a lack of self-confidence.

It must be admitted that Harry is indeed very reliable, and the advice he gives is extremely constructive.

Hermione immediately immersed herself in revising the text, even neglecting Ron.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m superfluous,” Ron said with a shrug, then looked at Hermione with affection. “But then again, what can I say? Actually, I think she’s quite adorable. It’s rare to see someone so dedicated to something. She’s really cute, isn’t she?”

Harry couldn't see any logic in what Ron was saying, but he just smiled awkwardly and nodded in agreement.

What else can I say? Should I lie against my conscience?

Or just tell Ron, "Yeah, your girlfriend is really cute."

That sounds so harsh... It's second only to saying someone's girlfriend is very voluptuous.

“Let’s find something else to do,” Ron suggested. “Let Hermione stay here and work on her paper herself…”

“I have something else to do and I need to go out for a bit.” Harry waved his phone, which then rang.

It's Hagrid.

When I answered the phone, I heard Haig crying and sniffling, saying that Aragog was dead.

Aragog, Harry knew, was Hagrid's eight-eyed giant spider.

"May you attend its funeral?" Hagrid asked cautiously.

“Of course,” Harry said with a smile. “No problem, Hagrid—of course, you know Ron is a bit... well, I won’t call him that.”

“Hermione? What about her?” Hagrid asked again.

“Hermione’s got some things to do too, she’s making a video,” Harry reassured Hagrid. “It’s alright, I’ll be right there… just wait a moment.”

Harry put his phone away and briefly spoke to Ron... Sure enough, when Ron heard about spiders, he shook his head repeatedly in refusal.

"Just kidding, I'm not sick," Ron thought to himself.

When Harry arrived at the place he had arranged to meet Hagrid, he found Hagrid sobbing.

“You’ve finally come, Harry,” Hagrid said, sobbing.

"Yeah—Ron and Hermione can't come, they're so sorry." Harry shrugged.

“No—it’s alright…but he’ll be very touched that you came, Harry…”

Hagrid sobbed loudly. He had made himself a black armband, which looked like it was made from rags soaked in shoe polish. His eyes were red and swollen. Harry patted his elbow reassuringly, the highest part of his body he could reach without much effort.

Where should we bury him? In the woods?

“Good heavens, no,” Hagrid said, wiping tears from his eyes with the corner of his shirt. “Now that Aragog is dead, the other spiders won’t let me near their webs. It seems they’re only not eating me because of his orders! Can you believe it, Harry?”

The honest answer was "I believe," Harry knew that the eight-eyed spider was a very wild creature.

“There was never a place in the woods I couldn’t go before!” Hagrid shook his head. “It wasn’t easy to get Aragog’s body out. Let me tell you—they usually eat the bodies… but I wanted to give him a proper funeral… a proper send-off…”

To Harry's surprise, an uninvited guest suddenly appeared here.

It's Professor Slughorn.

“I can see that today is a sad day, Hagrid.” Professor Slughorn walked over to Hagrid and patted him on the shoulder.

Of course, it's about standing on tiptoe.

“You’ve finally arrived, Professor,” Hagrid said, blowing his nose forcefully. “A wizard as kind as you will surely be well-liked by Aragog.”

Harry thought to himself that Aragog might like Slughorn's fat the most. He went to the back window and saw a rather horrifying scene: a huge dead spider lay upside down, its legs twisted and tangled.

"To be buried here, Hagrid, in your garden?"

“Behind the pumpkin patch, I think,” Hagrid choked out, “I’ve already dug—the grave. I just feel we should say something—about the good memories.”

"Please accept my condolences, Hagrid," Slughorn said soothingly. "A sorrowful night, a sorrowful night... Where is that poor animal?"

“Outside,” Hagrid said in a trembling voice, “Shall we—shall we begin?”

The three men entered the back garden, where the moon cast a pale light through the gaps in the trees, mingling with the light from Hagrid's window, illuminating Aragog's body lying beside a large pit, next to a ten-foot-high mound of fresh earth.

“It’s beautiful.” Slughorn said as he approached the spider’s head, where eight milky-white eyes stared blankly at the sky, and two large, curved pincers remained motionless in the moonlight.

Slughorn bent down in front of the giant turtle, seemingly examining its hairy head.

Not everyone can appreciate their beauty.

Hagrid spoke to Slughorn’s back, tears streaming down his wrinkled face.

“I didn’t know you were interested in animals like Aragog, Horace.”

“Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them.” Slughorn stepped back from the corpses. Harry saw a glint of light from the bottle disappear into his cloak, while Hagrid, wiping his eyes, remained oblivious. “Now…shall we begin the funeral?”

oh well...

Harry noticed Slughorn's subtle movements.

Hagrid's lack of awareness doesn't mean he didn't see it.

Professor Slughorn was quick; he managed to produce some venom so soon.
You should know that the venom of the giant octopus spider is quite expensive!
Hagrid nodded, stepped forward, dragged the giant spider, roared, and rolled it into the black pit. The corpse hit the bottom of the pit with a terrible creaking sound, and Hagrid cried again.

“Of course you can’t stand it, because you know him best.” Slughorn could only reach Hagrid’s elbow, but he still patted him on the shoulder. “Let me say a few words.”

Professor Slughorn walked toward the edge of the pit with a satisfied smile on his face, clearly having extracted quite a bit of venom from Aragog.

Slughorn spoke slowly and solemnly: "Farewell, Aragog, King of Spiders, those who knew you will never forget your long and loyal friendship! Though your flesh may decay, your spirit will remain in the quiet, web-woven place of your forest home. May your many-eyed offspring multiply, and may your human friends find solace in their sorrow."

“Alas.” Harry shook his head and sighed.

“Alas,” Professor Slughorn sighed as well.

Hagrid let out a loud sob. Harry stepped forward, patted Hagrid, and asked him in a conciliatory tone, "Now that Aragog is dead, I have something I want to talk to you about, Hagrid."

"Go ahead and tell me," Hagrid said, wiping away his tears.

“You see, I have an organization for dueling practice,” Harry said, glancing at Professor Slughorn.

Sure enough, the old man's eyes lit up.

(End of this chapter)